On them shall light at midnight
A strange and sudden fear;
When, waking to their tents on fire,
They grasp their arms in vain,
And they who stand to face us

Are beat to earth again;

And they who fly in terror, deem

A mighty host behind,

And hear the tramp of thousands
Upon the hollow wind.

Then sweet the hour that brings release

From danger and from toil;

We talk the battle over,

And share the battle's spoil.

The woodlands ring with laugh and shout As if a hunt were up,

And woodland flowers are gathered

To crown the soldier's cup.

With merry songs we mock the wind
That in the pine-top grieves,
And slumber long and sweetly

On beds of oaken leaves.

Well knows the fair and friendly moon
The band that Marion leads-
The glitter of their rifles,

The scampering of their steeds. 'Tis life to guide the fiery barb

Across the moonlight plain; "Tis life to feel the night-wind

That lifts his tossing mane.
A moment in the British camp —
A moment- and away!
Back to the pathless forest,
Before the peep of day.

Grave men there are by broad Santee,
Grave men with hoary hairs;
Their hearts are all with Marion,
For Marion are their prayers.
And lovely ladies greet our band
With kindliest welcoming,
With smiles like those of summer,
And tears like those of spring.
For them we wear these trusty arms,
And lay them down no more

Till we have driven the Briton,
For ever, from our shore.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

The Star-spangled Banner.

OH! say, can you see by the dawn's early light What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming!

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet

wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,

Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,

What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses ?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first

beam,

In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream; "Tis the star-spangled banner; oh, long may it

wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion

A home and a country should leave us no more?

Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave ;

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth

wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!

Blest with victory and peace, may the heavenrescued land

Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just;
And this be our motto, "In God is our trust,"
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall

wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

FRANCIS SCOTT KEY.

The American Flag.

WHEN Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air,

She tore the azure robe of night,

And set the stars of glory there;
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure, celestial white
With streakings of the morning light;
Then from his mansion in the sun
She called her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand
The symbol of her chosen land.

Majestic monarch of the cloud!

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, And see the lightning lances driven,

When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given

To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur-smoke,
To ward away the battle-stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory!

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph high, When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on;

Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier eye shall brightly turn
To where thy sky-born glories burn,
And, as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance,
And when the cannon-mouthings loud
Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall,
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall,

Then shall thy meteor-glances glow,
And cowering foes shall sink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below
That lovely messenger of death.

Flag of the seas! on ocean wave
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave;
When death, careering on the gale,
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer of the sea
Shall look at once to heaven and thee,
And smile to see thy splendors fly
In triumph o'er his closing eye.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home,

By angel hands to valor given;

Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy hues were born in heaven. For ever float that standard sheet!

391

Where breathes the foe but falls before us? With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us!

JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.

O Mother of a Mighty Race.

O MOTHER of a mighty race,

Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!
The elder dames, thy haughty peers,
Admire and hate thy blooming years;
With words of shame
And taunts of scorn they join thy name.

For on thy cheeks the glow is spread That tints thy morning hills with red;